Domestic
by diamantes
Summary: This ones a pre-Brad-and-Janet-saga-type-thing, when Columbia was fresh meat. Magenta's POV. Begun very late at night. (what could be more suitable for Rocky Horror?)
1. Morning Song

My apron is dirty. I do not know what time it was, but there have been many two o'clocks in the mornings when I can remember feeling this way.  
Frank's lavish bedchamber, my domain for the past few days, seems to soak up my emotions and my tears like some deranged sponge on a bloodlust. I cannot define my emotions right now. I feel...numb. I feel nothing.  
Frank is gone of course. He is never here by the time I awaken.I must admit, I marvel at how he does it nowadays, seeing as I sleep less and less after these ordeals.   
At first it was wonderful, back when our mission was fresh established and I and riff were fresh meat, it was exquisite pleasure, being taken in like this. Frank was the first one to really make me feel...accountable, for something, anything really. I can safely say that I loved him at some point.  
But not now. Now he has been getting in more and more groupies and taking me in less and less, and the silence between us grows ever longer as I realize that the only love I have ever born for Frankie must have been an exquisite sort of lust, mingled with the shameful loyalty of some dog for its vain, deliquent master.  
I have my brother now; he is all I may have that means anything to me any more. Of course Riff is the love of my life. I am more than convinced of that fact. After all, who else is there? Especially now that we're out of Transylvania. Here in this planet dominated by the male human race and by subordination and by pain. I am the perfect servant. That's where it stops. when I run my long fingers through Riffraff's greasy hair he likes it. It keeps him going. Everyone needs that; everyone is somewhat entitled.  
The Master has a particular new groupie he takes in frequently now. I have not yet learned her name, but she wears a long sparkly coat and top hat, and her hair is short, bright red, and androgynous in style. Her sex appeal is beyond comprehension. Just by looking at her, I can feel her weight move against me.  
I want to start fresh; something new, something different and perhaps a little less difficult. Both Riff and the Master are so particular in their choice of favors.  
I glance at myself in the darkened mirror of this oceanic, smoky chamber I know so well. Tufts of wild hair poke out from beneath a dirty doily, angry streams of deep crimson attacking the air around me. Blood-colored lips, smeared and ever-frowning, shift pensively over long, vampiric white teeth. My fangs. They only pop out occasionally. I have yet to show Riffraff. I wonder if he actually would be truly displeased. I toss my head back and fake a cackle in the dead faltering silence of that room. Sex droid in the glass laughs back. I am undone, I decide. By losing it, I will have won.  
The door behind me opens a sliver and a long, pale pair of fingers extend in a beckoning pinch.   
I turn. Riff opens the door widely, grinning from ear to ear. Sister...sister dear. Come to me.  
His sinewy smile suits well his cadaverous, carved-of-marble features. I smile as well, recognizing each inch. Perhaps it is better to stay with what one has always know so well. I go to him, letting him caress my arms and lips and thighs and neck. I don't mind, of course, all this is old news. Sex droid, that's me. I toss back my head and laugh again as my licentious brother gnaws lustfully on my ear lobe. It's the only thing any sane madwoman would do.  



	2. Subterranea Primarian

My brother enters the room. My silence worries him. I can see this in his gaze as he sizes me up, and I can sense the rages and amorous passions that are building up inside of his frame. I smile with my fangs tucked away behind the curtain of juicy red that is my mouth. He need not find out about those just yet.  
He whips off his tailcoat and struts towards me. Only with me can my beloved brother ever strut, in true peacock style, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his pale, shivering chest.  
I love him. I truly do. I embrace every part of him: his bony wrists, his fragile pelvis rotating tenderly against mine, the bones that jut out of his ribcage like long straight razors. And as he plummets into me, I let my head sink back in half-fake bliss, and I grunt the way I sense he wants me to, and I toss my blood red hair, and I look into the hollows of his eyes. There is emptiness inside, and a need to feel secure, and a loathing for me that gives him strength to carry himself, and an excitement which I cannot share. I close my eyes and think of that sparkly-coated red-head, her glittering eyes as black as midnight, her mouth, her tongue that is always on the go, her skin, her thighs, her breasts. I get myself excited just thinking about her, and at last I am able to scream orgasmically.  
  



	3. Muse

_Magenta  
2:09am  
  
_Riff Raff ahs cut himself again. I always knew that it would come to be a habit. He's the shrinking type. I close my fangs about the newly clotted bloodthat encircles his upper left arm, reopening the wound. At first he is expecting a kiss from me, then he realizes the pain that I am giving him. He heaves with sobs upon the pillows and the sheets are stained with red. Helplessly I lap up every last drop of the delicious blood. Mmmm, salty. I can feel my own blood rushing through my veins, into my eyes, bedazzling me and fogging my vision. Am I supposed to drink that as well? I close my eyes and wrap myself in brother's limp, shaking arms. I have done this to him. I have made him weak, made him helpless. He always played the dominant one until now, and I can feel a sick kind of triumph rising in my heart. I am the strong one now, and I sense the fierce defiance of bloodlust churning again in my teeth, in my throat. Oh Riff, I'm so sorry, but can't you see? I must leave you now. I am not yet quenched, and your blood is not as tasty as I had imagined. It is too coarse, and yet so thin: it is almost flavorless, with a trace of half-earned suspicion mingled with a false assertiveness that you do not own. False, Riff, you are false. Without another thought I leave the chamber and make my way to the servant's quarters, to find the new groupie.  



	4. Out of Moonlight

  
_Magenta  
4:07am  
  
  
_I have awoken after a joyless sleep. How long it has been since I was last awake, I do not know. The boistrous redhead sleeps beneath me. I fondly stroke her hair, feeling how silky soft and smooth it is. In the lantern light she looks otherworldly, almost Transylavanian. Ahhh....sweet Transsexual! Land of night! She belongs there, as much as I do. We belong there together. I know that much.  
She stirs, a faint tremble of consciousness awakens her almond-shaped eyes, and she sits up. I slide off, afraid suddenly of what I have done to her. For Riff, I feel no remorse; but for her!  
She has awoken fully now and starts to get up, when I trip her. She falls, squealing; I catch her, she flings her white arms about my white neck. We fall together on the carpet and she giggles delightedly as I eagerly embrace her awakeness, pestering her with a swarm of kisses and feeling up and down the entirety of her gorgeous body. I am so glad to have caused her so much joy this early in the morning.   
Oooohhh! Don't stop, you're so fun! she squeals as I pull away reluctantly, unable to do more, for it is time to start preparing the Master's breakfast. I shake my head. I must go, my little friend. But you will be here later on, yes?  
Why, yes, of course! she replies, and I notice for the first time the drawling notes of her high-pitched squeal. I'll be here all day.  
I nod and turn to leave. Good. Then I will return then and we will talk some.  
She hops onto my back as I start to leave. I turn back to her and we kiss deeply. Then I leave. I had not noticed my brother's presence up until now. I am annoyed at his company.  
What are you doing here? I chide, not to be displeasurable.  
I have been looking at you, most gorgeous sister.  
And what do you see? I ask, unwilling to play his game.  
Riff smiles. I see much, my dear Magenta.  
He smiles at me and we climb into the elevator that will take us down to the kitchen for breakfast. I know from his smile that I will have to pay for the revels of the previous night, the groupie's as well as mine.  
  
  



	5. Lost

_Magenta  
4:11am  
  
_My doily has gone missing. I lost it yesterday, or perhaps this morning, in the smaller hours, and I cannot seem to find it. This will be a fright for the Master, the silken doily is a very expensive and useful item. I must find it. There is nothing for it but to search...  



	6. Noble

_Magenta  
5:31am  
  
_Some time has passed now and I still cannot find my doily. I want to search the redhead's chamber, but I don't want Riff to find me there, for he should do harm to her if he sees us together. And we would be together, I know that much. I don't have any time for that right now anyways.   
The Master has summoned me to his chamber for breakfast. I must bring him his eggs and sausages. I have applied new makeup, for the revels of the earlier hours had brought to my cheeks a sort of ruddy robustness that would certainly be unsuitable for his company.   
I laugh in the mirror once more. Sex droid in the glass merely stares at me, wondering what I have done with her. I try and smile back wittingly, knowing that she is indignant, that she knows she is in danger of being killed, or forgotten.  
The realization hits that this would kill me too. No matter how much I try to separate myself from my own persona, I am she nevertheless. I must forget the redhead and keep her alive. For Riff's sake. For Master's sake. For our sake. 


	7. The Tempest Within

_Magenta  
5:33am  
  
_I had to have just one more look around the servants wing before resigning from my search. I had thought perhaps I would encounter my doily in Riff's bedroom, but no. I excavated carefully, for I did not want him to learn of my troubles. How would I explain the misplacement of my doily? He knows that I keep it always close by; that even he is not allowed to take it. I have found him once or twice, kneeling in his bedroom, stark naked, rocking back and forth like some wild thing, nose buried in it. I screamed that I hated him. He replied with the same lewd, encouraging grin that drew me in between his legs the first time we fornicated. Pitying him, I hushed, undressed myself and fell to his angry rapture. I let him reattach the doily to my frizzy crown before we began. It felt dirty and greasy through my hair.  
It shows me what the future should hold, you see; it gives me an identity and an obligation. Every being must have an obligation. It makes sure one knows they exist. Who am I? Why, I'm Magenta the maid. I wash Frankenfurter fully, his clothes with my hands and his person with my tongue. I play house with my brother Riff Raff. I keep my fangs out of sight and compensate for bloodlust with extra sex. I'm Magenta the sugar cube.  
I face the mirror.Why do you do this? asks the sex droid, mouth split in half by the seams of time.  
I please others, smile I. A perfect servant.  



End file.
